South Atlanta (Where We Hang At)

[Intro]
Welcome to my world nigga
South Atlanta
Welcome to the southside
And the recession
Hard times keep approaching
Real hustlers only know where to go out and get it

[Hook: Scrilla Man]
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at

[Verse 1: T-Rock]
Straight out the trenches of South Atlanta where it's no pity
When niggas either get rich or die like that nigga 50
They said I would fail but I'm back to reclaim the victory
Real niggas respect my G and they bitches gotta be with me
(It's still what?)
It's still contact, Kush packs in Conneaut
We like them being numb Kats
Yo army don't want no combat
These niggas say they robbin' and stealing like this civilian
But they won't bust a grape when it's time to commit a killing
I'm feeling
The fakeness inside that you try concealing
Quit grilling
And huffin' and puffin' you ain't no villain
I'm drilling
This trap with the realest shit ever smokin'
So feel it
The only one in the tribe who be holdin'

[Hook: Scrilla Man]
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at

[Verse 2: T-Rock]
I was raised as a rider
Where everybody treacherous, secs to clips, if a nigga try to get next to this
I been knockin' out the competition, then posing to break through this
They comin' in second like Exodus
This quest for chess got me possessed like the exorcist
To get in and get paper, tryna get rich and live greater
Do what I can to see haters, puffin on spinach and weed vapor
Y'all niggas and bitches so ridiculous
Who is the wickedest nigga live before we kick in this
Bustin' bleachery lyrics over a beat that's sigging, devilish
I rap real 'cause I'm militant
I was raised in the city of a Atlanta if I die then you bury me with 4 Glocks to hell
Only one that would grind and don't forget the words just incase I gotta battle with the warlocks in Hell
Swore not to fail
No matter what I'm makin I will not lose with the Glock fused
I'm a rebel
Armed with the metal
Nigga'd play the baseball bats and a shovel on a whole 'nother level
And war with the Devil
Seems to me the fake niggas stay on top and real niggas get stressed
Back against the wall, dirty anna on my leg, big tests for big checks and Glocks with big tecs
FUCK WIT IT!
Stressed out while the grind confusing this
Making me crazed got a mind with screws in it
I'm putting up with the presence of every single direction in life, still getting high as a fool in this
Paradox a game, lots of pain
Feelin' like I got less to lose, and a lot to gain
Still chewed up, bring down rocks and rain
Focused up so strong enough to lock the brain
Or maintain
Like a nigga supposed to, I got to the environment that I've been exposed to
And ever since your friends turned PO to smoke you
Like you was the enemy and niggas never did know you
Truth hurts when I spit that crack
Supply the hood 'cause Imma get that back
I ain't really have a choice but to flip that pack
I'll never go broke but to get that ??? back

[Hook: Scrilla Man]
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at
Scope that, laid back
You know where we hang at
Chrome that Maybach
You know where the bang at
Red Beam, black mag
You know where the fame at
You know who my dame
(What!?)
I said you know where we hang at